


Before We Go

by taylorjacksonandtheolympians



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Before We Go (2014) - Freeform, Brock Rumlow is a dick, F/M, Fluff, Minor Angst, bloody nose, mention of stripping, slight existential crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 01:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorjacksonandtheolympians/pseuds/taylorjacksonandtheolympians
Summary: Steve helps you look for your purse when it has been stolen





	Before We Go

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr 10-16-17
> 
> https://yallneedtrek.tumblr.com/post/166372807034/before-we-go

You were walking down a side street in New York City, trying to figure out what to do next, when you noticed somebody walking behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed a group of men, staggering and holding bottles of what was obviously alcohol. Oh yay, because your trip was already turning out so great! Note the sarcasm.

Just as you were about to cross the street to try and avoid the group, someone came up and wrapped their arm around you, startling you. “Hey, honey, sorry I’m late.”

You looked up into the handsome face of the man that tried to help you at the train station, feeling slightly reassured. When he guided you back onto a main road and let go of your shoulder, you sighed in relief. “When that happens, just stare straight ahead, keep walking strong,” he told you.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“Sure,” he is nonchalant.

You look at him, feeling guilty. This stranger had tried to help when you missed your train out of the city, but you had ended up snapping at him in your annoyance. “I’m sorry about earlier,” you spoke up. “I shouldn’t have been rude.”

“It’s okay, you’re having a bad night. It happens to all of us.” You nod, continuing to walk beside him. “So what do you want to do? You want to get a hotel room or something?”

“Excuse me?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“No, not, not… goodness. Not for us, for you. In case you don’t have friends in the city,” he explains himself.

“I don’t have friends in the city and I don’t have a cell phone, and then my I.D. and credit cards were in my purse, which was stolen. So I am screwed.”

“Okay,” the man said, trying to think of options. “Want to try and go find your purse?”

“What, like the person who took it is just going to put it back,” you ask sarcastically.

“Well, no, but sometimes they just take the cash. Dump the purse. You check the trash barrels where it was stolen?”

“At the bar? No, no I didn’t.”

“What bar? You remember the name,” he asks.

“Um… Yeah, it began with an L. Um… I can’t remember. It was downtown,” you say, unsure.

“Downtown,” he repeats. “Well that’s on my way.”

“It’s on your way?”

“Want to come with me, have a little adventure, find your purse?”

“Okay,” you answer.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

You start towards the bar when you hear him pipe up.

“Where are you going?”

“Downtown is south.”

“Right,” the man points his thumb in the opposite way than where you were going, “downtown. I’m Steve by the way.”

“Oh, hey, I’m YN.” He seemed trustworthy even though you just met, so you didn’t hesitate to tell him your name.

“YN. It’s nice to meet you, YN.”

You and Steve made your way to the bar downtown, finding it after a few minutes. You each checked the trash bins in the restrooms, coming up empty handed. You walk back into the main room of the bar and find Steve.

“Anything?” You shake your head. “All right. I got an idea.” Steve walks up and places his hands on the sticky bar top, attracting the bartender’s attention.

“Excuse me, hi… Brock.” Steve took a moment to read the man’s nametag. “My friend had her purse stolen here earlier tonight, and we were wondering if you’ve seen it.” Steve glanced to you to explain what it looked like.

“It’s a black Michael Kors bag with a long strap. I had it on the bar beside me before I noticed it was missing.”

“It hasn’t turned up,” the brunet said in a gruff voice, “but you never know.”

“Yeah, that’s what the police said,” Steve started.

“Funny, they’re usually so helpful,” Brock butted in.

“But then they told me about these guys that will lift purses out of certain places and that, sometimes, the bartender knows something,” Steve continues as if he wasn’t interrupted.

“Yeah, well I guess saying that is easier than doing actual police work.”

“Right. Right, that’s true. But uh… I be there’d be a pretty handsome gratuity in it if something popped into your brain,” Steve asserted.

“Michael Kors, you said?”

“Uh huh,” you told him, nodding. “It does have sentimental value.”

“Give me a sec,” Brock said as he stepped away from the bar and into the back.

You stood there for a few moments while Brock made some calls, until Steve broke the silence. “Sentimental value. Nice touch,” he said appreciatively.

“It’s true.” You paused. “I appreciate you doing this. I know that you weren’t planning on spending your night rummaging through bathroom trash cans.”

“Well, I didn’t plan not to,” he said graciously.

You laughed. “Well what about all the other things that you could be doing?”

“Well, you didn’t say trash can treasure hunts were on the menu,” Steve said cheekily. “I’m actually in town for an audition… tomorrow. I was in Grand Central Station, just kinda… trying to piece together what I want to play.”

“So, trumpet,” you asked, nodding to the instrument case on his back.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone play trumpet since high school band.”

“Well, we’re still around, we just don’t, uh, march as much as we used to.”

“Jazz?” you question.

“Yeah. You listen?”

“I like it. I like jazz.”

While you waited for Brock to return, you and Steve talked about that time at summer camp when you serenaded Sam Wilson with ‘My Funny Valentine’ from a behind tree.

When Brock came back, you were curious to know what he found out. “Well…?”

“We may be in luck. Took a little persuasion. Had to call in a favor or two,” he said, handing you a slip of paper.

Taking the paper and opening it, you notice a street number and business written down. “So I just have to go to this address and…?”

“That’s a bad neighbourhood,” Steve interrupted with a frown before you could get your thought out.

“What, you think guys on Wall Street were lifting purses,” Brock asked sarcastically.

“Well… thank you,” you said, trying to get out of there.

“I hope I was helpful.”

“Extremely,” Steve replies.

You leaned into Steve’s side and said quietly, “I think he wants gratitude.”

“Group hug? Big Kiss?” Steve said, spreading his arms out, reaching to embrace the bartender.

Brock rolled his eyes before, “I believe the words were 'handsome gratuity’?”

Steve sighed and reached for his wallet. “Do you take credit cards?”

You walked out of the dirty bar a few minutes later, ready to get your purse back. “Okay, so it’s this way, right?” pointing in one direction.

“All right, you talked me into it… I’m coming with you.”

“Thank you, but really, you have your audition to prepare for…”

“It’s all right. It’s late, you’re going to a bad neighbourhood. I’m not gonna let you go alone. Besides, it’s this way,” Steve said insistently, turning you to face the right direction.

“Are you sure you don’t mind,” you ask your acquaintance, not knowing what you would do if he said he did mind.

“Positive. Come on.”

You chatted as you walked beside Steve through the streets of New York. The two of you talked about your reasons for being in the city. You were visiting your boyfriend Pietro while you are on break from university, at least until he broke up with you out of nowhere. That’s why in that sketchy bar, you had nowhere else to wait for your train. Steve has an audition with Tony Stark in the morning, but he also wanted to attend his friend’s wedding to see his ex. You made sure he wasn’t talking about the bride or the groom. Steve laughed at that and assured you that he wasn’t going to break up a wedding.

“All right, this is it.” Steve looked into the establishment and grimaced. “You know what, let me do this. What’d you say it was… a black Michael Kors bag?”

“I think we should call the police,” you say nervously.

“Yeah. They’ll be right over. How’s next Thursday,” he said sarcastically. “Anything specific about the bag?”

“On the inside lining of the bag, there should be a bright red stain. I spilled a bottle of nail polish right on the inside label,” you disclose.

“Two blocks that way, theres’s a bar called Barton’s… Wait for me there, all right?”

”Wait! How much cash do you have,“ you say cautiously.

"I don’t know. That’s a personal question.” Steve patted his pockets while he thought. “Maybe forty bucks?”

"You’re gonna do something crazy,” you accuse.

“Thank you for not saying 'stupid.’ That means a lot.”

“You’re gonna grab it and run, aren’t you?”

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s exciting though, isn’t it?” He gives a self-satisfied smirk. “Go.”

With that, Steve walks into the building and disappears from view. You walk a few blocks away and wait outside the bar he told you about. After around ten minutes, Steve walks your way, fingers pinching his obvious bloody nose.

“They tried to cheat me out of three hundred dollars and hit me when I said I didn’t have enough,” he says in explanation.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. You have your thing and now you look all…”

“Homeless?”

“No.”

“Tough?”

“No, let’s stick with homeless.” Steve chuckles at you. “Well, the purse is out.”

“What now?”

“Now it doesn’t matter. It was over when I missed that train.”

“What was over,” Steve questions.

“My chances of being accepted into the doctoral program. My interview with Doctor Banner is tomorrow morning at nine and I’m definitely going to miss it now,” you say, despairing.

“Hey YN, it’s okay. I’ll try to get you home. And if not, you can call in the morning and try to reschedule. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I know. It’s just that I worked so hard for six years to get to this point. If I don’t make it to the interview tomorrow, then I have to wait another semester.” You take a few moments to calm yourself down. “Look, thank you for your help, but it’s over. You can go back to whatever you were doing before I came along and ruined your night.” You started walking away when Steve called out to you.

“Wait, please, stop! Stop!” You stopped and turned around with an expectant look on your face. “You didn’t ruin my night, okay? I was hiding out in Grand Central trying to avoid…” Steve didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know that he meant his ex, Sharon. “Look. My night was crap before you showed up. It’s gonna be crap after you leave. But your night? If we can get you home and get you to that interview? Well then… you know, that would make me a hero.”

At the end of his monologue, you couldn’t help the small smile on your lips. “Not gonna pass that up, am I?”

Steve smiled a genuine smile and you both set to work, trying to come up with a plan. In the end, you ended up at a bus station in Chinatown that ran buses all night. You stood outside, waiting for your bus together. The night may not have started out the greatest, but you had fun with Steve and were sad to have to leave. You struck up conversation in hopes of distracting yourself from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry again that I messed up your plans. You never got to go break up that wedding,” you said, teasing.“

Steve chuckled and you giggled before, "Aww, don’t feel badly.”

“No, I don’t feel badly. I feel bad.”

“Did you just do that? Did you just correct my grammar?”

“Oh, stop it, I was just teasing. Have I done that already?”

“You’ve been dying to,” he accused lightly.

“That’s an interrupted verb phrase. I’ve been silently correcting you all night.” You give him a crooked smile and he scrunched his nose up in a show of distaste. “Don’t make that face.”

“Well I’m glad to know that we’re at the point in our relationship where you feel comfortable doing it out loud,” Steve’s voice held amusement.

There was a minute where neither of you said anything and your thoughts drifted to the important meeting tomorrow.

“What if I make it to the interview, but I mess it up?” You looked down and wrung your hands together. “This is a big step in my life and I don’t want to be too pre-occupied with my thoughts, or too tired from sleeping on the bus home that I ruin my own life. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself not to even bother coming to visit Pietro. What we really need is a time machine.”

“Well, we kind of have one.” You glance up to find the most beautiful blue eyes looking into yours. Steve walks over to the pay phone on the curb and picks up the handset. “A few years ago, they turned all these public pay phones into time machines. You pick one up, dial 1997, and a New Yorker will come on and tell you exactly what was happening on that corner 20 years ago.”

“It was funny. I don’t even need to call that far back. I just need to call yesterday.”

“Well, let’s try.” At your questioning glance, Steve pretends to dial numbers, letting out silly 'beep, boop’ noises to signify the numbers being pressed. Finally he turns to you and hands you the hand set. “What would you tell yourself?”

“YN, it’s you from the future,” pause. “She doesn’t believe me.”

“Well, of course; You got to tell her something secret, something only you two would know.”

You think for a few seconds. “You know that tiny scar you have on your forehead? The one you tell everyone you got hiking in Colorado, but you actually got falling into the crowd while singing Wannabe by the Spice Girls.”

“This is my favourite story already.”

“Shh. It’s collect.” You bring the phone back to your mouth. “So Natasha made you go to a karaoke bar, and you ended up drinking way too much, tripping over your own feet and spending the whole night in the E.R. Okay, oh good, you believe me now. Okay, so whatever you do, don’t talk to strangers in Grand Central. Just skip New York altogether.”

“Ouch,” Steve grabbed his chest in mock offence.

You thought about the adventure you and Steve had gone on, and looked up into his clear blue eyes, and reconsidered. “Actually, do talk to strangers in Grand Central Station. You might make a friend, and he might distract you from yourself. He’s not that bad looking, either.” You winked at him. “YN, remember to not take yourself so seriously. I’ll see you in the future. Okay, bye.” You replaced the phone on the hook and turned to your companion.

“So what do we do now,” Steve asks.

“Oh, you’re not gonna get off that easy. You’re making a call, too.”

“No, no, no. I don’t mess with the physics of space and time.”

“Spice girls,” you say, giving him a look.

“All right, all right. Give it to me. But I don’t want to do yesterday, I want to do 2004.” You pass the handset to Steve and he does the ridiculous dialing sounds again, making you laugh. “Steve, hey, it’s me. You from the future.” He puts his hand over the speaker and turns to you. “He bought it. Idiot.”

“Listen, when you’re looking to get a job in college, ignore Bucky when he suggests a strip club.” You raise an eyebrow when you hear this, smirking at Steve. “It doesn’t matter how much money you can make or that you can settle your student debt before graduating. Dressing up as Captain America and shaking it onstage for drunk women will come back to haunt you. Okay, as long as you know that. Goodbye.”

Steve hangs up the phone and you fight to hold back a laugh. “Captain America, huh? Like… the guy with the shield and tights?”

“Hey, don’t laugh. Did I mention the part where I don’t have student loans to pay?”

“You did. I’m just disappointed that I didn’t get to see you perform. That would have been quite a show,” you say, chuckling.

You shift into meaningless conversation until an announcement sounds, giving a five minute warning until departure. You look up at Steve, knowing that you have to say goodbye.

“Thank you for helping me tonight. It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I met you.”

“Maybe we’ll see each other again. I’ll come see you play trumpet some time,” you suggest.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Steve looks into your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. His gaze is intense in a way that makes your cheeks heat up. Without noticing, you began leaning forward until your lips brushed Steve’s. You pulled back, ready to apologize when you felt his mouth meet yours again, more insistently this time. His mouth slots against yours, meeting no resistance from you. You break apart once again when the bus driver sounds the horn, calling for riders to board. You said goodbye before climbing aboard, looking back only once.

Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, watching as the bus pulled away. He had slipped a handwritten note in your pocket, along with his phone number. He had an audition to get to, but he hoped you would call him when you got home. All he could do now was wait.


End file.
